


Apricot Jam

by Mercy825



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Hate Sex, Slow Burn, Timeskip, Unplanned Pregnancy, it lost the spice, kind of but not really, what if the first steam baby wasn't from zutara
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:08:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24592045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mercy825/pseuds/Mercy825
Summary: “I can handle myself just fine, understand? I am no babe.” She makes for a sharp turn to one side. Coming to find her way blocked, the vague notion of being cornered creeps up on her as if she were stuck in front of an earthen wall.“Then I hope you have the sense to not act like one,” With a sardonic half-smile on his lips. His rough fingers still in the crook of her elbow. It irritated her, just how warm his fingers were as they glided into a firmer hold.orWhat if the first steam baby was not from Zuko and Katara
Relationships: Azula & Sokka (Avatar), Azula & The Gaang (Avatar), Azula/Sokka (Avatar)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 90





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this during lockdown quarantine. Forgive me, father, for I have sinned. Some of y’all ‘bout to be real mad at me, but it needs to be done.  
> Thank You, Jasmine, for Beta reading the majority of this trash heap. And thank you to the @TalesofOnyxBats- author of the Art Of Remembrance for inspiring me to write about my new favourite crackship
> 
> This idea actually came to me after watching the Netflix series- The Witcher. Kinda of based Azula a little off of Yennefer

The heat was stifling;

It clung in tendrils to her face, which gleamed a little damply though, alone it seemed, was unaffected by the warmth it left a slightly grainy, feeling to her clothing.  Smoke  curled through the thin fabric of her skirt and billowed in dense clouds of sickly scents. Tendrils of it swirled up clinging in the air, shifting across the bare skin of her legs. The smoke from the dry ice wasn't completely opaque, but its long grey wisps seemed to curl with others that were much darker some near black. One foot moved in pendulous motions, red leather mules slapping ripples against the skin of her sole.

She eyed the liquid and the golden glow of the cubes. Poking them with her perfectly manicured nail to hear them jingle. She watched, entranced, as they bounced back up remaining mostly submerged like mini icebergs. She felt the heat leach into the drink.

Shivering, she pressed the cold glass of fire brandy to her chapped lips. Feeling the keen burn on her tongue and her throat- a burn that made her recoil in bitter discontent. The first swallow  _ set her throat on fire  _ going down. It left a burning sensation that spread a  _ cotton-like  _ numbness in her mouth. The stiffness in her spine melted under the guise of the brandy. She took another hard gulp. She is sure now the lace mask is pushing into her skin, leaving imitations on the plumpness. 

Her skin was glistening and the nape of her neck damp to the touch. Her body _slumped_ slightly onto the bar and the dark curls veiling her face. Her head lolled to one side, pushing out her lips just a little. She wasn't drunk yet, but she liked to give that impression. She _relished in the idea of giving unwanted eyes the wrong impression._ Hand twirling her hair in a seemingly absent-minded manner. 

The music was pleasant idle. If anything it acted as a buffer to the inconsequent and polite chatter that coupled with the alcohol left her feeling hazy and nauseated. The faint redolent of sweat was attenuated by a pungent sweetness that left a treacle-like taste in her throat.  _ The normalcy of it all was too much.  _ She swallowed the anger hard like it was a fire-seed. Her knuckles whitened from clenching her glass too tightly and gritted teeth from an effort to remain silent, her hunched form exuded an animosity that was like acid - burning, slicing, potent. Her face flushed with suppressed rage.

_ How fucking dare they dance in such blissful ignorance. _

She took another swig to rinse away the bitterness in her mouth.

_ Were she to relive it, by trying to summon more strength and handle this awful parade, tail in between legs. _

_ No _ , she would bare her wounds bitterly with brandy. __

Minutes later a man stumbled to the seat by her side. Rolling her eyes at the pathetic display, Azula scans the room. It seemed that this one wasn’t the only one in such conditions. How embarrassing. Did these people have no pride for the countries they represent?

_ Of course not, it’s not as if they can hold a candle to us. _

_ It rose like bile in her throat. It’s bitter and vindictive of course. But Azula, nonetheless lets it sit on her taste buds before the feeling ebb away. _

_ It would be a lie for her to admit that she no longer held lobe for this court but she cannot falter the diversion it seems to offer even if it is minuscule. _

_ Ears prick a little when she feels a body settle into the adjacent seat. _

Could she not be left to brood. She breathed a silent prayer asking Agni for the peace she had not sought to feel.

She could see the white plumes of his breath, billowing out as he continued his inconsequential bleating that seemed to jab at her ears. Her skirt shifted with a slight degree. Her eyes regarded him with sly disgust. He was a corpulent man, she regarded him a little more. Pompous and grand in his movements like some Komodo rhino. She could see the intelligence that remained stored in his skull, one look into the man’s eyes gave more than enough insight. She had barely glanced at him but yet the giddy prospect resonated in his tone as his actions remained keen.

Her face knew how to perform all the right gestures, well at least enough to placate his unwanted advances. She allowed him to take her dainty fingers in his massive ones. Before he places a kiss  _ far too lingering for her liking _ . The tightness settles in her spine and a twitch in her jaw as she struggles to maintain her composure.

“Who do I owe the pleasure to?”The fat man clicks his tongue in her direction, leaving a particular rush of nausea that rushed through her like a red hot poker searing into her abdomen.

In the corner of her vision, a hand inched towards her bare thigh. _ Screw this  _ she might just give in to her basal urges and leave a charred pile in the spot he takes. She can’t imagine her brother would be too pleased about it but who gave a damn.

Without turning to look at the intruder she held the wrist with enough force to cause concern. 

Pale, the man fumbled as soon as the grip on his wrist tightened. Perhaps it was the alcohol, but today Azula decided to enjoy the show instead of terrorising the worthless men who dared see her as inferior. She sat back into her seat, trying to calm her nerves and waited patiently for the man to fall away. 

Another cup later, another foolish ambassador. Perhaps, It was time to find a more suitable place to brood under her dark cloud.

_ “I can handle myself just fine, understand? I am no babe. _ ” She makes for a sharp turn to one side. Coming to find her way blocked, the vague notion of being cornered creeps up on her as if she were stuck in front of an earthen wall.

“Then I hope you have the sense to not act like one,” With a sardonic half-smile on his lips. His rough fingers still in the crook of her elbow. It irritated her, just how warm his fingers were as they glided into a firmer hold. Her skin was singing, and she felt too warm and tight.

“ _ Sit. _ ” He motions, tan fingers to the stool. His eyes remain full of ill-intentioned mirth. She can tell he had a bit of liquid courage running through him. She could smell the sweetness on his breath. He was practically unsteady on his feet. The golden-eyed woman feared the poor savage would topple her over and pin her underneath him in some poorly written faux pas.

Her lips quirked in a way that made his mouth go dry. 

“Where’s your band of merry men?”  she quipped, raising her eyebrow and glancing in between sips. He said nothing in return, instead offering a wolfish grin.  _ How fitting _ , she thinks. 

But now the silence between them has begun to stifle her nerves. She wishes this towering wolf of a man would just speak.

“Well, forgive my ignorance. But pray tell, to what do I owe the pleasure?” She speaks in a superior and somewhat dismissive tone. She’s all full of pretension. Shoulders stiffened as she tried to impose some height on him. Which frankly played poorly on her part be it the influence of brandy coursing through her or said stifled nerves.

Had he come to rub more salt in her wounds with his elective silence? Thoughts wavering as she struggled to piece together the strategy behind blue eyes.

She would not let him _ , at least not without a fight. _

**“Stop it. You’ve got such a morbid air around you.”** It comes abruptly like a bucket full of ice water. If she had not known he was not a bender, the idea might just have unsettled her. Irritation soars through her. She would have to strike him down in an instance.

“No need for epithets.” Her response comes dryly, fingers pressed to the rim of the glass.

“Are you quite done, now?” He watched her, his expression was unreadable.

“I beg your pardon?” Her golden eyes demanded behind a mask, a frown creasing her brow at his words that sounded far too critical to her.

**_“_ ** Princess, you know  **_exactly_ ** what I’m talking about.” he refuted mildly and motions in the direction for the bartender to get him another drink. They exchange a glance.

T wo more drinks, push one along the bar in their direction.

A flash of temper flared inside her. She was not about to sit here and be psychoanalysed by some water savage, regardless of his connections to her brother. 

“On the contrary, I don't.” 

“You’re an  irascible and difficult woman. A simple thank you would have sufficed.”

“I owe you nothing.” Grabbing the glass that stood idly, she downed the drink in one gulp. The skirt swishing on its accord with one thigh on display as she gets up to leave before her impulses get the better of her. Quickly she admonished herself with veiled praises to avoid lowering further by retorting to someone of the likes of him.

_ “Wait  _ _ —  _ I’m sorry _. _ ” Finally. She thought, his paying the obeisance she deserves. With a great outward show of reluctance.

“Sit,” he motions again with a mockingly sigh.  “Let's start this conversation over.”

Begrudgingly she lowers herself into the seat.

  
  


“The very fact I remain here, _ savage _ is of my own accord. Do not delude this for a triumph on your part,” she mutters disdainfully. No one ordered around Fire Nation royalty, much less herself. Regardless of the circumstances, her brother just happened to be a case of his own, though she had tried fixing him. 

**“** Fine by me. Whatever that thing is that keeps you sane, Princess.”  He took a deep breath, slumping a little in his seat.

“I’ve paid my dues, savage _—seven years.”_

“Could we just have a nice and civil conversation or at least pretend,” the ambassador drawled before taking another sip. The glass clinking against the nose of his mask.

Amber eyes squinted at him through-hardened anger. “ _Do_ _you ever stop running your mouth.”_

“No, not really,” he said with a certain smugness. His confidence was far too misplaced but lets not delve into tirades about the lack of adequate education those primitive water tribes faced. She would not chaise him.

“You should try it sometime.”

“I will.” He spoke succinctly, hoping his words would carry some sort of commanding tone, that would be sonorous and powerful enough to cease her tongue-lashing.

True to his word, all conversation halted for a pressed moment except for the occasional sip of the drink. Music still bustled across the room, but it somehow felt lacking. Azula did not know if she should feel some sort of elation at her succession when the blue-eyed man had finally shut his proverbial trap or—disturbed because she felt some sort of disdain toward it. Perhaps it was time to stop with the festivities—  _ enough drink.  _

_ Instead, she took to holding the glass at an angle in one pale hand. The warm glow of lights reflecting off the glass.  _

“They never taught you social skills in the palace,  _ did they _ ?”

She halted firmly with mild irritation, she turned her steady gaze. The glass still coddled in one hand as she sniffed in annoyance.

Narrowing her eyes she tossed away the idea of voluntary sobriety. No, she couldn’t bear  _ pleasantries  _ with this infuriating man sober. How did Zuko ever bring himself to associate with him?

He chuckled softly, "I’m going to take a wild stab in the dark and take that as yes."

_ Get fucked. She barely managed to keep that one. The alcohol was turning her reason loose-lipped.  _

“Do you not have a desire to be something more than your past?” Azula blinked, in disbelief. She retained her patience with great difficulty. Where did  _ that  _ come from? “This may be a little too intrusive, but Princess, even before I approached you seemed so...”

“Not in one’s right mind,” she supplied while tapping the rim of her cup. She took to placing her index finger in the drink and looked apathetically down at her hand. The nail on the finger she'd dipped into the drink had collected honeyed drops. She wouldn’t react. She wouldn’t. It’s the truth, after all.

“That’s one way to sugarcoat  _ crazy. _ ”

“Why must you continue with these veiled taunts? I have already told you that it is behind me, yet you still prod.” finger depositing the liquid onto her rounded nether. She let it flit carefully past the lips.

“Sure, you have,” he snorted, his eyes filled with fountains of cool water that washed over her. “I hope you live a long delusional life.”

  
  
  


“Is it so hard for you to put aside your rather unfavourable might I add, preconceived notions. Here’s me thinking you would have some sense to you with ten years of prancing about the Fire Nation courts.

Honestly speaking, I have no clue how my brother managed to rope you in but nonetheless having the fire lord at your beck and call works wonders, right?

“For your information what I do in the courts is far more favourable than prancing about. Let’s get things straight, your brother had nothing to do with my position in it.

“So Zuzu, really didn’t put in a good word. Shame. Must be that avatar status you seem to be leeching then? But do go on, chaise me for my silver spoon.”

“Silver spoon. Oh, you mean that unfair advantage of your daddy committing profane acts to further his position in courts.” 

“Ah yes, do please school me in your vast repertoire of the royal courts. The same said courts I just happened to spend my early years in. This rhetoric of yours is getting dry.”Azula retorts somewhat flippantly before regarding her nails with a new interest

“You’re so full of it, Princess. Ever thought of taking a few steps down from that high horse you seem to ride around in your head. No, that would require you to develop an ethic which I doubt is happening anytime soon, because you have never had to work a day in your life for that position you still unfairly hold. 

“That’s just simply not true —”

He's wrong because she had to work twice as hard as her darling brother. She had to fight tooth and nail to even be remotely considered by her father. Everything she’s ever amounted to was, in fact, a product of her hard work.

“I don’t expect you to understand what I do. Lu, you’re barely human. Can’t expect you to turn over a new leaf. No that would be you biting off more than you can chew.” Leaves her tongue tart. She stills taken aback by his harsh reading.

_ No, I don’t really but lest not forget.  _

_ I am _ human. I know… difficult to believe. You all forget I breathe and bleed the same way you do.” The type of edge in her voice meant she was holding back. For what he hadn’t the faintest of a clue

She took a moment to collect herself. Brushes down the boning of the corset styled top.

  
  


“I do have desires,” These words she uttered with difficulty. It wasn’t something she would admit, even when provoked. Desires were for the weak-minded; only the strong could turn them into reality. These desires remained an unbecoming impulse of her ill-regulated imagination during her seven years.  _ They were what kept her deluded mind from spiralling further down that path. Her desires are what remained unobtrusive  _ and pure. Untainted by her mind and mistakes.

But she wanted to spite him. Curse the Earth Kingdom’s amazing alcohol.

His chest huffed in disbelief as he struggled to not reveal a mocking smile of white.“ Oh—really.”

She rolled her eyes at the show of emotion. “Yes, believe it or not, my life long struggle is not solely based around killing and plundering like some barbaric manic.” For a moment the dark-haired woman with rather misleadingly— kind eyes flashed before him. With a faraway look glazing her eyes she finally murmured through her pressed lips.

“I want to be a mother.” 

For moments, time appeared to come to a screeching halt. She received no prods or jeers, only a vacant stare without intent.

Azula quirked a brow at his sudden muteness. It left her uneasy. She doesn’t fidget with glass to occupy the silence. Her hands remained rigid and unmoving. Somehow the room felt a bit too stuffy for her taste now. And she drowned the urge to tug at the mask. Having said nothing wrong. If anything she had feared she had been far too resolute in her speech.

There, the ambassador’s eyes lit up with mirth and his body relaxed into laughter. He reached a hand to her shoulders to steady himself.

The princess did not find any amusement in her words. “What, what is so funny?”

He looked down at her mask clad eyes, too close to be considered friendly. “You don’t really look like a mother but I'm reserving my judgement.” After a moment of thought, he added, “well that and your track record.”

Her face twisted to a scowl. So he was able to forgive a nation for waging war against the world, but he would never let her forget her close call to madness.  _ Hypocrite. _ “How negligent and unloving do you think I am?” 

Shrugging, he traced her bare arm. “Don’t take this the wrong way but even a rock has more compassion than you. A burning murmur on her skin 

She jerked her arm away from his warm touch with enough force that the aftershocks rocked the half-empty brandy glass. she rose abruptly and stood tall, shoulders raised back.  _ He would never know how close he came _ “You know, I’ll prove you all wrong.” 

Walking away with long strides with a slow enough pace to seem natural but fast enough to weave through the crowd and away.

Unfortunately for Azula, this man had dealt with his share of tantrums from Katara to know what those strides meant. Staggering around the crowd, he followed the princess. “Hey, hey wait a minute,” he called out loudly, uncaring of the judgemental stares that drew in his direction. “Did I say something wrong?”

Maddening with wrath and the shame of her momentary cowardice, as she rushed through the palace chambers, while none but him followed in rapid impetuosity on the account of her deadly terror that had seemed to seize most people.

She spun around angry determination in her. Ignoring how she began to swelter from the warm heat. Heady warmth from the perched wall torch and slickness between her thighs from her staggering out of the hall. Brilliant flames flickered and danced with no thought lapping at her clenched fingers. The flame brought such a silence that the crackle was all that could be heard between them.

“Look, I said I'm sorry” he had been a bit callous in his delivery but it was enough. At least that’s what he thought. 

He leaned forward clasping the hand that appeared almost a little out of reach.

“ I said I’m sorry, what do you want me to do?”

“What do I want! 

“You— know —what your problem is savage. No one has ever told you to fuck off.”

He's getting closer, squinting with a smirk. In the lighting, she can see the thin film over the white of his eyes through the mask.

“Matter of fact, I can do you one even better—  _ get fucked. _ ”

  
  


“And you kiss your mother with that dirty mouth of yours?”

“My mother—” she cut herself off. He had made her feel inferior tonight countless times. Why would she explain herself to him? She thrust her body flush to his in an attempt to push him off. His eyes falling to where was perfectly placed between his legs. Mask giving off a glint from the hallway torches.

_ “It’s just an idiom. I would think someone at least of your stature would get it. ” _

The darkness in the hallway was thick and black. She could barely see the mounted flame that licked at the golden walls. The sole beacon beside the brilliant blue of his eyes that shone like lanterns. Azula stood quite stiff. Her anger was greater and more powerful than before. But it was more than just that she felt in the hallway. 

_ It was an amalgamation. _

Slick with heady perspiration that took her limp and wide-eyed like a blow to the back of the head. So abrupt that it had welled up from between her thighs deepening.

Slowly, little by little he lifted his hands in the darkness and held them in mid-air, the fingers spread weakly open just mere inches from where the fabric of high slit gathered. His eyes are hard and coarse blue. 

_ If we can go through with this, we can never go back to before.  _

_ She’s a big girl, she knows the implications. She knew the difference between right and wrong. Sometimes the line got blurred but this was no blurred line. It was as clear and true as the colours around her. The coarse blue of his eyes, the pliable blue her flames and the cold blue of the ice dancing around the drink. How much was she expected to put up with this? Before she tripped and fell down the rabbit hole? Before she lost her sanity, again? _

_ She was about to show him anger, she was about to show him a depraved hunger he was far too akin to _ — _ something that glowed with barbaric lustre. It is after all that he wanted. _

_ “Azula” in a small voice. _

With a heavy-weighted gaze, she lifted her head, and the sight was enough to undo him. His free hand moved to her nape, slid into her hair and held her. 

There it was again. So corrosive and abrupt like an itching underneath her skin. Crawling and burning beneath his touch. She wanted to unravel her skin and bury his fingers deeper between the soft fibres that were woven around her bone.

  
  


Her shoulders slacked and her body moved to conform with the pressure of his hands like the earth wielded by the benders.

Her tongue is pressed at the back of his teeth.

She bites his lip, breaking the kiss with an ardent conviction to her actions.

“Ouch fuck,” his lips upturn impishly. Breathing haggardly as the blood begins to run like water from the break in the skin. He grabs her face then undeniably soft even for her. He can’t help but draw parallels between the resemblance of bleached bone.

For a half of a second, they both stood there, staring at each other—she assessed him as though he was competition or prey, and he simply watched—  _ her eyes _ .

It was her eyes that captivated him most of all though. Size of small almonds. They remained round and framed by thick long lashes. Coloured like the gold that embellished the hallways. She stared back  with a long, deliberately pensive gaze. 

Dragging his cut lip and teeth across her mouth the red blood smearing. 

Rutting into her like it pained him. So violent and ravening. Her touch being the only soothing balm. The heat coiling in her like some snake at the base of her spine.

She indulged in her desires  _ rather foolishly, he gave in. _ Azula becomes soft and compliant. Her body almost acts instinctively, the skin is left an agitated pink and the hairs left tauntingly erect. He presses his touch close

Driven raw together. He comes to assume that tonight the spirits have forsaken him. Because for sure he is bound to lose his mind. But he's far too drunk to fight this.

Her palms feel for the wall like braille, reading over the grooves for the handle before pushing the door open. His hands seemed to grip her tighter like he somehow expected her to flee and escape him again.

They move in a frantic haze and tangled limbs. His palms hard pressed against her creamy skin that peaks through the edge of boning. He stops for a moment before digging his fingers into her arms with enough force to leave bruises in the flesh. He twists her in his hold, crowding her against the door in hasty frustration.

Sokka nuzzled his cheek against the woman's silky hair, his mask catching slightly in the strands. nostrils flared, and his eyes were almost a dark navy in the dim light. He moulded his chest against her back, rolling his hips in short purposeful circles so she could feel his arousal. Pressing her legs against his thighs, she opened wider to feel more  _ deliciously _ exposed. The heat of his cock practically branding her like a hot iron.

He hitched in little breathless noises almost at once, as Sokka’s cock grounds at her backside.

He stroked down her waist, the rough tips of his fingers brushing the bare skin between her thigh and where the fabrics of the skirt joined.

“Don’t even dare try. You can’t possibly comprehend the price of this fabric —

  
  


“You’re right, I can’t.” He grabs either ends of fabric, tearing the stitching that holds the skit together.

Azula dark eyes enticing him closer, it was when she blinked that he picked her up, her legs wrapping around him, mouth crashing down on his and her hands ball into a tight fist at the base of his neck.

He drops her in the bed like a sack of potatoes. She’s not happy 

“It would be uncouth of me to burn you where you stand.” She muttered into her hair that sticks to her face 

he falls to his knees dragging her calves to pull her to the edge. The sheets pulling in the process.

“A little, I think.” Almost blithely

Sokka pushes himself upright, heels of his shoes clattering on the floor before he sits back on his knees, between the apex of her thighs. He buried his nose just below her centre so that he could smell her slickness, Azula fingers paused. Farting his tongue out to trace a line just below her lips, moaning a little.

Fingers tethered around her calves, placing them on his shoulders for better leverage.

_ It was good, too sudden and almost painful. _

She’s regarding him as she rides his mouth that pressed so close to her melting centre. Smearing kisses with his tongue between his legs his cock pulsed, hard.

  
  


His silken tongue swept across the folds of her sex. Lapping her wetness, tongue probing the ripe nub pushing her to a body shaking end. Thighs pulsating in ripples as Azula’s pupils darken and eyelashes quivering. She threw her head back and ground in, circling her hips, and came, moaning.

Her hips falter in their rhythm as her body writhes in infinite ecstasy. Sokka’s tongue slides out effortlessly. The fluids and saliva glistening on his chin. 

  
  
  


She ran her clawed nails, mussing some of the bound brown hair in the top knot. It should be painful but were

  
  


Sokka stroked himself languidly, mouthing at the skin between her thighs. She rolls her hips against his mouth. An uncharacteristic whine escapes from the princess’s lips as he laps at her centre. He can’t get enough of Azula shamelessly grinding against his mouth. His hips falter in his hand and she gushes a little in his mouth.

She knew the was a grin plastered on his stupid face.  _ Cocky bastard _

Footfalls landing in bunches outside her door. She struggles to pick out the muted sounds of hesitation. Before then a rattle of a knock gives way to the door sending her back into a strained arch.

“Princess, the fire lord has sent me to check up on you. He is wondering why you left the celebrations so early?”

“Is everything ok, in there. Do you need me to send  _ — _ ”

  
  


“No, I’m quite alright actually.” Comes out struggling and faltering. “I’m fine

I’m just not up for the festivities this year so tell the Fire Lord I am to retire early.”

He takes a break to kiss the inside of her thigh, blowing warm air whilst he laughs at her poor attempt of an excuse. Gold mask cold against her creamy thighs, muscle straining in them. Hips jostled in a slight spasm as she struggled to find purchase in the silken sheets.

  
  


A mixture of saliva and her juices in down his chin. He pulls the mask off hurriedly, throwing by his feet, toes his boots off.

He hovers above, her body remained caged between his forearms. Wonders if she can smell herself on him. He can see each breath with warm ease. 

Left-hand slides to her face for a moment wavering with his movements before just deciding to leave the mask over her eyes.

_ It’ll make things easier if he's honest, it would make things truly difficult for him he thought mockingly _

She seemed so small before him, with pupils blown wide. Her crimson smeared ever so slightly on her parted lips. Her glassy eyes watching him idly with lust. So unlike the cold,  calculating woman who'd  **_sooner watch him burn_ ** than spit to put the flames out. Like some kind palpable irony. 

Rather, instead, she looked like a wounded bird.

His eyes flicking all over her face before settling onto her lips. Azula closed her own eyes briefly, biting down on her lower lip. 

He was filled with a hunger for the fruit of her lips. Giving in. He felt for the seams of her lips with his. To his surprise, they tasted better than the centre of fresh fruit, bursting with the ripe plumpness and forgiving of spring. So, greedy and insatiable. He devoured them whole, taking what he wanted with ravenous abandon. Rough thumbs caressing her cheeks as their breaths mingled. Completely unprepared for the warmth of her lips. They tasted like the soft sun of the tundra. His lips providing a pale imitation to hers.

The nervous passion which he possessed then, as it often did these days; like some crude snake in his veins, writhing about his blood and body. He lowered his mouth again to hers, hungry, open-mouthed, his hands grasping more tightly at her hair, conscious of a driving urge. That itch that only she could scratch. Her hands were free. She raked at his shoulders with her sharp fingernails. Feeling the skin break, blood welling out. The pain acted on him like a goad, driving him a little forward. He should punish her for that.  _ He should. _ But for the moment he could only moan against her mouth with sounds of abandoned ecstasy that seemed to tumble from his throat, and he brought his mouth back to hers in a deep, demanding kiss.

He was losing control. He wanted to rip her open. The way she had ripped others open. The way she had ripped **_him_ ** open. Their faces were apart now, hovering above her lips by a bare inch, feeling her breath come in and out as she panted below him. She looked into his eyes. He did not know what she saw there. She eased her face away from his lips. Darting her tongue over white teeth. She leaned— **_ever so slowly_ ** —nipping below the curve of his jaw. Teeth sharp against his skin.

His hands stilling on her ribcage as she struggled her hips lifting and straining in frustration. He chuckled, softly tracing each rib until his fingers rested below the ample mound of her breast.

"Do something,  **_savage."_ **

"I am _." _

"It's far too —slow because this simply feels like  _ torture _ ." She hisses. The pink slip of her tongue peeking somewhat from her lips.

He releases a heavy warm breath on her breast. The nail of his thumb raking across the stiff nipple.

_ She whimpered. _

He chuckles again. Lowering his head as he took the nipple between teeth, her hips jutting as his tongue lapped at the taunted nipple. Her back arched into the warm and wet embrace of his mouth. She was keening and convulsing like an overheated snake. The overwhelming wet rush of pressure pressing between her legs. 

Panting, he knelt above her. When she shifted her weight on to her elbow, rising. He grabbed a fistful of her raven hair, tanned fingers flexing and tightening. He pushed her forehead down into the bed. His other hand reached below her, bearing her hips up to his. He smoothed his mouth against her neck, biting and licking, down from her. The skin sank tautly under his onslaught.

Her back arched, perhaps involuntarily, and he hissed between gritted teeth as her buttocks ground against him. He brushed his lips against her pale skin and looked into her eyes. He could not think of anything but the sensation of her skin against his. Calloused fingers traced down the flat of her stomach. Her hand slipped between her legs, sampling the sweet slick and held it out for him. Beckoning him for a taste. His hand the colour of lightly burnt sepia wrapped around her blushed fawn of small fingers.

**_"Are you wet and slick with want for me, Princess?"_ ** His voice continued with husk, blue eyes raking over the slicked fingers. Sokka’s tongue darting out to lick in tight, violent flicks. Before he envelops them in his wet mouth, cheeks hollowing.

"Don't flatter yourself. It's nothing but a reaction  **_savage._ ** _ — _ Did they not teach you basic biology?" Smirk playing on her mussed

He tore his mouth from her fingers.

**_"_ ** If I remember correctly princess,  **_you're the one in need of me_ ** , not the other way around **_._ ** " He spoke matter— of— factly even with the small haze of arousal present, his voice took on an edge.

**_His_ ** hand moved lower, gently sliding against  **_the_ ** juncture of  **_her thighs_ ** and ran a finger down her slit, rubbing tight circles. His fingers found a rhythm thrusting between the slick folds as he fucked her slowly. He lowered his head and purred into the shell of her ear.

"And where is that mouth of yours now?" He rubbed his open mouth against her neck as his calloused fingers applied more pressure.

"It's right here..."

She  **_pulled his wrist_ ** from her thighs and closer to  **_her_ ** mouth.

He rubbed his cock between her legs, back and forth. Her breath was coming faster, too. He could hear it, harsh gasps only a little muffled by the sheets. The sound of it was more arousing than he could have imagined. She was already wet for him. He could feel the slickness spread over his cock as he rubbed against her

. He could not wait any longer. His shaking hand guided his cock to her entrance. He could be gentle with her. He could. He could.

  
  


“So you do, have some semblance of control? But you must know that to be a falsehood. Because I know that you can’t have possibly gained clarity of mind at such short notice." Propping herself up on elbows. She uttered, her amber eyes full of trapped, unspoken anger. The sweat beads peppered down the soft black curls of her hairline. 

He wanted to sink into the hot dark warmth of her. He wanted to leave bruises on her lips, on her breasts, her neck, all of her soft inner parts. He wanted to fuck her like he was going to destroy her. He wanted to fuck until she was sobbing and limp, with nothing but his name on her lips.

“ **_I_ ** _ —can _ admit, princess, my desire to cum right now, is through the roof.” Panting hard although he had hardly exerted himself. It took every ounce of strength he had, not to just lose the facade of control and work through her like a hammer to a nail. 

“How is it, **_savage?_ ** Does this **_..... cunt feel good_ ** ?” 

His teeth clenching tightly as he stopped, pelvis flush against hers, his cock sheathed to the hilt inside of her. Sokka eyes flutter shut. The aching pleasure rising in his throat at the sound of her voice. His bruised lip curling up as the expression on his face soured. How disgusted he was with her. But why should he hide it? She wanted him to be nothing more than some breeding stud capable of siring.

He felt full of violence and lust, and could not tell where the desire for one ended and the other began. He tightened his grip on her wrists, feeling the delicate sinew and bone beneath his calloused fingers. He had her wrists pinned above her head.

"Could I say the same thing about you?” He growled, gloating to himself as she shivered. His lips traced a feather-light path down the side of her neck. Cock lurching in her clasping channel 

“Well, I'm waiting…”

He smirked, flashing a set of pure white as his hips stuttered into action. He let out a groan, and she felt him pulsing inside her. He kept rocking into her warmth. She moaned at the pressure of the hard, swollen head of his sex pressing into her seam.

He thrust, holding her hands steady as she gasped almost theatrically. Her muscles stretched around him, finally submitting to the cruel pressure. He sunk deeper into her wet embrace pausing when he felt a bit of resistance. Lowering his face to nip at the soft skin behind her ear. His cock throbbed furiously in her clasp, demanding more as he bit back an animal sound of pleasure and endured the sudden urge to fall upon her with a hard, deep thrust.

“Sorry,” he chokes out a listless apology, regretting her slight wince. Hips recanting a little in remorse as his tan fingers soothed clumsily at her clammy palms. Blue eyes twitching open in an instant as the realisation settles in between shudders,  _ fuck he had spoken the blistering thought out loud. _ His mouth shifted insensately as he focused on her face, her sharp features pulled and contorted beautifully tight with arousal. Sokka glanced down, her taut stomach quivered and a soft gasp drew from her lips. Azula breasts rose and fell, straining against his chest. 

Hands fought out from his hold, clambering onto his back, sharp fingertips sinking into firm muscle. He grimaced, eyes clamp shut. Groaning as he penetrated her to the hilt once more. Sokka’s pants spill out more throaty and hoarse, his hips continue to stagger. He kissed her and pressed himself further deep inside with a hard thrust.

"Don't be so stupid, Savage." Azula spat it out like venom. She could feel her brow furrow in annoyance as she jerked her head aside.

His nostrils flared somewhat as he stared down at her. " _ Lu _ , I almost forgot who I was fucking—”

She takes this as her opportunity to flip them over. He releases a wounded cry as he slips out of her warm embrace. Her free hand now rested on his throat where his pulse thrummed to its own pace—fast and hard. The flesh strained beneath one hand whilst her other grabbed ahold of Sokka's cock and held it upward as she lowered herself slowly. The burn was pleasurable. Taking him inch by inch until he was fully seated in her. Sokka, grabbed her hips, steadying her before he began to palm her jutting hips in an attempt to placate her. 

_ Agni _ , she feels like she’s being split open like the half-shadow of the sky during Sozin’s comet. Head snaps back in the waning arch, her body crackles on and off like an open fire. The muscles in her thighs flexing involuntarily around his waist.

“You think you’ve got me all figured out.” Gold eyes uttered indignantly, Azula pale face down to her collar splotched in high colours.  She collides into him again with a little more force .  Breath rolling over his flesh in gasps as she nears climax. His thrusts chasing her in close pursuit like the streaks of lightning that cord through her being. The angle he takes makes it difficult for her to sink in at once, causing muscles to resist with a slight tremble.

“You’re shaking, princess.” he crooned breathlessly, throat tightens in a way that makes it come out feathered.

“ _ Lu _ oh fuck-” he puffs out into her hair, against her neck, fighting against the instinct to sink his teeth into her. His hands feel like a hot branding iron against her taut stomach and now it’s become too much. The heat of his breath on her shoulder, blunt nails digging half-moons into her soft underbelly.

She tells him just how much she hates him as she rides him so hard they both see stars. He growls threats into her ear that they both know he’ll never carry out. When they’ve both finished, they just lie there, his arm around her waist and her head pillowed on his chest like some grotesque parody of affection. They don’t leave there, though, because each of them likes to watch the other unravel in more ways than one, so as the night drifts on, they fling their words and try to make the other bleed.

“I hate you” whispering with the uttermost animosity. The tender brush of lips. Azula presses them against the fluttering pulse, burning as they make contact with his neck. She bites down, enjoying the startled hiss as her teeth sink slightly into the tender flesh of his neck

His eyes pinch shut, spine tensing then slacks with every gratifying burst of pleasure. When it’s over, white static crackles in his ears. His teeth do find her then though, boring deep enough into the skin to leave small tears. Her moans rang throughout the room, loudly and clearly. His thrusts remained bold and robust chasing her to the edge with frivolous fever.  The loud timbre in her ear as his sobs come out deep from his stomach like an animal, visceral groaning and it’s too much now. 

_ The night is waning away, and there flows a ruddier light, they just lie there, his arm around her waist and her head pillowed on his chest like some grotesque parody of affection. _

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will be a lot slow and forgot to mention this is a slow burn fic. However there are many things I forget to mention that being this takes 10 years after Ozai defeat so Azula is 24 and Sokka is 27.  
> Traditional Chinese medicines Referenced at some point:  
> Keishininjinto (cinnamon twig and ginseng root decoction)- / granules you can put in your tea headache  
> Goreisan ( (5-ingredient powder with poria)

She lets the creases deepen between the folds of her eyebrows and magnify unimpeded. Her head was throbbing, like a toothache in your brain, right between the eyes. Her legs remained crossed as the tip of her finger smacked rhythmically colliding with glass. 

These meetings remained humdrum and inane. Usually, unvarying slogs that would flow into blurred drawls. She had never really paid attention to these meetings, instead, she repeated standing orders and queried points of procedures. She preferred to follow all the ins and outs but could often see some sort of power struggle was underway. If Zuko was not careful he would needlessly end up at the bottom of this struggle.

“The Fire Nation must pay reparations or punitive damages for their war crimes. This is for us to move forward. It is within the state’s best interest to redress their gross and systematic violations of countless laws. This decision has been established as a priority from surrounding nations.” 

His brows furrowed and lips pressed-together in a frown 

“We cannot move forward without addressing this, Fire Lord. Choosing to do so will enact war protocols.” 

“The nations cannot afford another war, Fire Lord Zuko.”

Now, if she closed her eyes and concentrated she could see the puckered skin contort as his amber eyes swam in dire concern. She imagined the wrinkles and folds of skin were now so pronounced underneath the drooping brow that they stretched the surroundings thinly. 

Poor Zuzu, this is practically a feeding frenzy. 

He always did have a pale disposition when it came to these meetings. They were right, of course. The Fire Nation could not afford this right now. The damage control alone from the previous war was crushing. It would leave the state financially crippled and at the greedy hands of recession. Poverty would run rampant.

“We cannot afford to have a coward as our head of state, someone who refuses to acknowledge the problem.”

Her eyes fell slightly in the darkness. The orbs swirling in the soft sunken gorges of her head. She could feel her blood rushing to the surface of her skin. Her hands unfurling in an instant.

“That’s enough. This is, after all, a meeting of diplomatic negotiations so act like it. You will treat the Fire Lord with the utmost respect.” With an edge to her voice. She picks up the placid mask once more and blinks indifferently. Her features no longer pulled in an ugly scowl. Even as they carry around the room, darting in each grimace. 

She believed they must remain consistent with their approach in this matter. To be fair, Zuko did not see eye to eye with her on most aspects in negotiations of the reformed Fire Nation, but he had come to recognise her impatience, a hardness even he didn’t quite share was needed.

The emotional reticence that their family had taken, though cold at times was to avoid attracting circumstances that perpetuated feelings of unhappiness. Circumstances like these. To be emotional in these situations she had come to learn was a burden. A burden, Zuko carried often. 

She could see his spine softening and the rigidity leaving his shoulders. The high strung look in his eyes settles almost immediately. She waited until he could compose enough thought to appease the situation before it spiralled much further.

“Um, thank you, Azula.” Aware of the hesitation in the praise as his tongue clumsily clicked at the syllables of her name, he waved one arm of his robe in an almost placate manner.

“We are in fact in the process of creating a taxing system which would in due course be implemented through administration to compensate or restitute the victims. However, you cannot expect the Fire Nation to pay all of these reparations. That would be damning and completely dismantle the economy.”

He gave a heavy sigh and sat back into his throne giving his throat a rub as he was keen to divert. He turned and stole a glance at her. “And what about the changes the reformation has left. Are they not enough? ”

If she’s being honest she disliked his display of fear. It seemed to rankle her like a burr under her skin. Her relevance practically lashed out at him. This is why he needed her; the small voice at the back of her head seemed to chide. 

She leaned back momentarily, no more than a subtle shift, the movement pulling up at her sleeve. Her forearms were streaked with veins that sat comfortably on her skin. The beauty spots that speckled them jumped at her when she clenched her fist, the veins pulsating with concentration.

“We, as a nation still feel compelled by our collective guilt for the atrocities committed by our fellow countrymen. We are a nation still pondering, its guilt and I speak for the collective as a whole in asking, have we not done enough to show remorse for it? Is not evident through action and time we have taken. This country is no longer a regime.”

“You can't honestly believe that a decade of goodwill will rub away history.” He frowned, of course not. He may have been a little hard-pressed in his delivery, but he was by no means ignorant. The past decade after all had but built a foundation. 

“No, I— don't. If anything I believe what we have done are just a mere stepping stone to our true objective—”

“As the Fire Lord has aforementioned,“ they said,” we are currently involved in an advanced stage of discussions with the Avatar over the development of a republic of some sorts. This republic will be run by its own accord and by its people. It will serve as a home to the people still displaced from the war and the rebirth of our nations.”

“We are to hope that a small portion of the reparations will be put into place.”

“Where are we to find land for the so-called republic? Don’t tell us you would make us forfeit land,” she questioned in utter disbelief.

“She’s got a good point.”

“It’s only right for the fire nation to provide us land.” 

“You can’t be serious. The Fire Nation, regardless of its previous shortcomings cannot be subjected to this. We don’t even have enough land to grow our crops. We rely on imports.” 

“As I have previously stated, we are in the advanced stages, emphasising on the advanced bit. A lot of these plans are very much up in the air.” Sokka hastened to refute the assertion in a conciliatory tone. “Fine, you’ll have a fortnight.”

“A fortnight! You can’t be serious?”

“It should be more than enough to suffice. The council is being quite generous here.”

“Well, that’s that. It’s been finalised.”

“You have got until the coming fortnight to submit a proposal detailing the measures, planning regulations, land and so forth. Of course, let’s not forget the primary motive for this meeting. Establishing the taxing system the Fire nation will be taking to compensate for the misgivings, or else the United Nations will be forced to show their hand.”

“And you risk a penalty of being barred on issues involving the establishment of land.” it was the overly brazen voice of the middle brown man of considerable eminence. “Meeting adjourned.”

The council disperses into smaller clusters of bubbles. Hand scrolls are gathered in tanned arms as he fumbled with the sealskin bag before Sokka was ushered off into the clustered whispers of sceptical councilmen.  
***

It’s silence albeit the constant stream of a fumble from the assistant behind the wooden divider. She shifts to her knees on the narrow bed positioning herself in front of the mirror. Stiffening with a little reluctance at the reflection. Pale skin is flushed and her hair a mess. The gold hairpiece sits lopsided on her black hair that’s managed to escape the tight confines of elaborate ties and pins. She takes the piece, placing it into her lap.

Azula wills the heat she feels to the centre of her palms pressing the hair in between. Fingers running through the wayward strands in an attempt to tame the folds she left in her unconscious wake.Then finally coming to the conclusion her efforts have been sufficient enough. She supposed it could have happened after the meeting, or maybe it was during, she can’t quite recollect anything before or in between her collapse.

Opening her robes. She picks up the long, thick cotton cloth in either hand and begins the task at hand of wrapping the twined cloth around the soft swells of her flesh. Winding it around her chest slowly. She listens for him. The air between them is constricted. There is a tightness in his throat from the worry and prolonged silence. 

“I always thought you were the lucky one you know.” He hesitates a little before continuing. The scuffs of the wood on wood as he collapses into the chair.[,] The table pushed flush against the nearby wall. She stops on the word lucky, the rest of his sentence becomes an idle buffer before subsiding. Azula lets it sit on her tongue, rolling the word like some bitter paste— lucky. She still comes to the same conclusion.

“You always were the strong one, I never remember you getting sick, it was always me. Except, once one summer during the monsoon season.”

Of course, Azula remembered. He didn’t have to know that though. She glanced back furtively over to the dark wood of the divider. Although she couldn’t see behind it, she could hear the uneasiness in his footsteps, his steps are heavy as he paces the room still talking. What’s he trying to get at?

“Remember it rained all week but mother wouldn’t let us out and somehow we managed to convince the servants. Then you got sick. So much so —mother had to sit by your bed all night.”

“I remember I stayed all night with you and mother too —because ---how much you hated the dark. And I swore a solemn oath to protect you. So I used my flame to protect you. Silly I know, but by Agni’s miracle, it managed to stay lit the whole night —Zuko’s voice manages to fall into a muted tone.He faltered and finally stopped in mid-stride.

Glancing at a mirror it seemed that for a moment. Azula paused, at a loss for words. Her reflection morphed into an older woman of a softer gaze and one of longer hair. She stalls with the realisation in her movements. She’s her mother’s daughter, no doubt about it. Feeling the prickling ache in her body as her eyes fixed on the woman in the mirror. The ache, pockets itself behind gold, constricting and tightening dangerously. 

Mother.

It really only took one word and all the pent up resentments that festered like a sore behind that fucking word. One fucking word and she would be blabbering and bursting into impotent tears. She blocked the feeling like wax, blinking instantly, the glazed look came away. It will not do, to become like her brother. This irrational wake of emotion, simply won’t do. 

“If you didn't remember something happening, was it because it never had… do you want to tell me members of the royal family never get sick?” She means for it to come out like venom but instead falls flat of a croak.

“That’s not what I’m trying to say,” Zuko’s voice falls flat again, rebuttal on the tip of her tongue—then what are you trying to say?

The low hollow bubbling of water that gurgled along the clicks of the metal tongs.  
“Do you even know what luck is, Zuzu? You think luck is believing you’re lucky. There are rules to luck, not everything is chance. You of all people should know that.” Finally tucking the binding into itself. Azula pulls herself out from behind the divider before planting herself into the second chair, crossing her legs underneath her. 

In front of him, a demure girl stands behind the counter. Mousy hair that appears to swallow her. Zuko hears before he sees it: the shift of brown paper between the deafening silence. Assuming the cowering mouse of a girl takes the title of royal assistant. Trembling as she continues amidst the strain in the air, packaging the medicine in a swift haste of bunting cord and gold wax. 

She leaned toward him, her voice feeble and barely above a whisper that teared small holes in the tension. “A fortnight’s worth of Goreisan and Keishininjinto. It should help alleviate the headaches and fatigue for the Princess, however, advise her to use it sparsely. Xu Li will be with you shortly.” the separate packages slide across the grained woods as she bows her head before shuffling out.

“By no stretch of the imagination was I lucky. At least not like you.” His eyebrow quips and he deduces that he must be wrong because something rather uncharacteristically happens. She sighs quietly. His right hand remains framed by the side of his face on top of the wooden chest. Zuko gave a pause, being unable to retort.

A hesitant knock on the door rattled throughout the infirmary piquing interest as his attention drifted to the timid rap. The door opens before he can say anything, turning to its direction. A portly stout of man shuffles inside and Azula watches him, her eyes catching a slight resistance in his steps. The man bows at Zuko in disarrayed flurries a few times.

He puts it down to most people’s healthy fear of Azula. It was so normal, customary even so he doesn’t think anything of it.

The physician pulls a blanched cloth from his pocket dabbing at his face. Fumbling a little before he released another set of trembling bows in her direction. Pulling the folded parchment. Her eyes fell for only seconds to the quivering man of the physician.

“Get on with it.” he presses boldly as his blood runs thin.

“Don’t be such a thespian, Zuzu. You’re scaring the poor man out of his wits,” the princess gibed as she adjusted the robes. She knew her brother could be a pest, but this was going overboard.

“I did no such thing,” he muttered like a petulant child, eyeing the paper in the man’s hands twitching before Azula. Such a show of nerves was unbecoming for someone in a position like his, in her not so humble opinion. 

“Then stop this ridiculous behaviour at once!” Azula slammed a hand on the chest. Sending tremors into the trinkets and jars .“You represent the Fire Nation, might I add.”

Zuko narrowly omits the chance to sigh, instead opting with a slight tease “Agni forbid I show you anything other than apathy.”

She rolled her eyes, “I’m only saying this because you look like an imbecile doing that. If I don’t tell you, no one else will.”

The man coughs to disrupt them and they falter into the silence.

Ah, maybe it was the results. The physician paled a bit. Just how horrible of a person did everyone think she was?

The Fire Lord swiftly grabbed the poor man by the shoulders, jostling him back and forth. “So, what are the results? Is she okay, she won’t die or anything, right?”

“Um-- you see, I--I think there’s been a mistake…”

Her mask cracked, she could no longer feign ignorance with the retching feeling pressed in her limbs “Come on, out with it, we don’t have all day here, Lee.”

“My name isn’t…” his request remains unheeded as it is promptly dies between his lips

“Uh... here, take this,” through a squeezed tenor he shoved a folded paper into Zuko’s hands and rushed his next words as he inched to the door,tongue clucking in frantic dread “but it’s wrong, it has to be, I’ll um go make sure everything is working properly, don’t look for me again, I'll send my secretary, okay?”

He looked at her and then the door. Azula’s face remained the same refined apathetic look she had carefully curated over the decades.“Must be a big fan of yours.”

She got up with as much grace as she could have mustered from her depleted form. Azula snatched the note from the loose fingers. She hears it, the sound she thinks is her heart which goes out into bouts. It’s deafening as it pounds in laps out of her ribcage, her golden eyes quickly sweeping the reams of handwritten scrawls —and this is enough to suffice her morbid curiosity.

Pregnant

The first time she confidently can say her palms clam up. She blanks and loses her grip on the paper as he snatchesit from her hands. A hard tightness creases around his eyes as his nostrils flare out in anger and the note is promptly crumpled.

“How, better yet who?” he can’t even turn to look her in the eyes, his cowardice getting the better of him instead he lets the anger trail off into a half stated question. The frustration swells in him and he can’t help himself. The frustration , it becomes more and more intense and he’s suddenly struck with an intense and very perverse repulsion. Everything they had worked for has been stopped short.

Only moments fall past and it takes that for him to come to his senses as he hears the note of the door that opens behind him.

She doesn't have to say anything, her eyes are enough to lead him and the way they quaver on the familiar figure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m choosing to portray Azula through calmer lenses without hopefully washing out her personality. I was going to have a little more calmer/collected but still very much Azula. She’ll appear reserved but very fiesty because I’m basing her off of Yennefer from The Witcher. Whilst from Sokka I’m using the little knowledge of him from Korra.  
> Anyway Pls kudo and comment I love reading your comments and they do serve as motivation for my tiny brain 🧠  
> This is the updated version because i did not like the previous chapter


	3. Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bare with me as i finish chapter 4 and 5. However apologises for unfufilled promises. I would appreciate if could comment. ooooh i would appreciate if you could comment as it serves as encouragement

The candle had rested upon the books, watching the flame flicker it’s golden hue. Zuko enjoyed the small warmth. He simply preferred to write by candlelight even with the idea being as absurd as the power he held courtesy of him being a firebender, who could simply light a whole room if he needed. 

He is drafting out charters in characters of tight ink before he hears it. One hand scrunched into that tumble of hair, those curls that defied rules and gravity with equal contempt. Though they hung more in more waves than said curls. He held his breath as he pondered over the scrolls. He startled, lurching the table forward and he jerked towards the thudding on the far window.

For a second Zuko mistakes the sound for the cold wind scratching the panels of palace raw. It started back with yellow eyes and the soft tufts of plumage of toasted russet buffeted against the wind.Then it let out a succession of hoarse calls, relenting almost immediately as Zuko reached out to open the window

Zuko saw it in its eyes— a sort of weathered look sat in it’s wide orbs. The hawk had seen better days. Still they remained a spark of a proud creature of the sky, though it had diminished in ways that bit his soul just to look. Despite this, it displayed the same eager hastefulness. It sauntered up and down the desk, like a dragon with rounded wings unfurled. However this hurried action did not diminish or attempt in the least to restrain the impatience thronging its feet.

The table, a simple oak, now bore the distinct branding of talons. The bird calmed, stilling it's flapping. It shuffled towards the outstretched hand before rubbing its head against his palm. It’s haste subsided and a pained expression shifted onto Zuko’s face as the bird clasped at his wrist. 

“Ah, okay.” He pulled out a plate of leftover komodo rhino meat and half eaten sandwich, tossing the scraps of meat in it’s direction.

Coaxing down the crest of feathers with his thumb as it tore the scraps of meat. [,] He twisted the top of a silver cylinder embellished in carvings. Eyes falling upon a blue that had a subtle hue. The sight of that wax seal brought a flutter to the pulse underneath his fingertips. He teased the blue motto seal with his forenail. The paper is soft to the touch and the black ink has run but only slightly.

It only takes him moments to read it. Dread. Yes this is what settled in the space in between him and the folds of the letter. Zuko lets his hand run down the planes of his face and his eyes squeeze shut.

He can’t pry away his eyes as they fall on the three words.

Sokka is missing.


	4. Piando's Island

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would love to thank my lovely betareader Jasmine again because she's the one proofreading my mess. Believe it or not i've got the next chapters planned but i dont want to commit to a schedule less i repeat my quarantine mistake.

The setting sun dims an orange, leaving a sticky glow that folds the last of it’s drops over the ridges of scrolls and the sheets caught between fingers that rub reverently. And there is strain in his limbs, as he shifts into the bed, tanner then had been at the beginning of the spur. His skin now held a discolouration that in some measures resembles bruises and it was supposed he had injured his arm in a spur between the exchange of blows and rush lunges. Because it hurts a lot more than ever. Holding the crook of his elbow gingerly, Sokka closes his eyes. 

Lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling cracks that seem to mock him with the patterns of faces that loom over him in clustered condemnation. He shifted uncomfortably, before tossing away from the glare. But he doubted whether that would be enough to offset the feeling left behind. He thrashed about in the dark before his eyes grew blank and gazed, fixing into the empty space of the walls.

He’s being delirious, really. 

It is nothing more than the prick in his ribs, not some sort of growing ache in his chest that goes about to set a cadence to his thoughts, far better than the cricket flies outside his window singing. There is an ire to it today. It seems as though the said ache almost spikes and leaps laps around his chest like some penguin seal. Leaving behind a pain that seeped out of him, clinging and knitting tightly to his muscles like barbed wire. Sokka winced with a glistening in blue eyes: which now both fell partly closed. He willed himself to focus on nothing but the simple rise and fall of his chest and the sensation of air through his nostrils. 

The pain begins to slowly ebb away like waves and he can think again even with the weariness settled in his bones. And the thoughts come rushing in their own accord. Everything is so far out of reach and the passing days begin to wash at him out like fogged glass .

[ ii ]

The door moved with ponderousness, spilling a streak of light and Sokka shifted to cover his face with a blanket, groaning involuntarily. Heels digging into maybe something in between where the light and day overlapped with linen. The words come slow to him as he stares dumbfoundedly for a moment before pulling himself upwards with enough effort. It takes a lot more out of him than expected.

“Fat— what are you doing?” 

Feeling practically winded by the sharp stab of pain to the ribs. Sokka cradled the sore arm and his stomach followed in small roils of apprehension. The man looked at him for a long moment, mouth not moving before he lays down the tray of steaming food. Sokka does nothing more than look even more dumbfounded at it all. No, but he really is exhausted but he doubts it is powerful enough to manifest illusions of stoic shadows and steaming food.  
Almost thankful though, he couldn’t bear to muster whatever little strength he had managed to generate from a handful of fitful sleep to conversate with him. However in spite of it all, the man in question remains mute, as he works with unseemly haste then leaves wordlessly.

Sokka let his eyes fall closed for a second. Inhaling the scent had him salivating like a dog.

He considers it all now with the steam wafting in his face. Food had been nothing but an after thought he discarded this week.He had not found time to tend to himself even with these past few days being but a blur between being utterly emotional and reckless. He spent a good portion of it grieving the wound of the end of a decade-long friendship, skipping a few meals in turn. 

His eyes fall open. Sokka picks up the silver chopsticks and begins to make quick work of the food. He hissed a little adjusting the angle of his hand. He would probably have to bind it. Happily despite the slight aliment, he consumed the food even if he swallowed more than tasted it. 

Sokka thoughts gravitate in the direction of Katara and how thankful he is for her passing down the knowledge of healing. He ponders on it for a moment. He's got plenty to be thankful for but La, he misses her and her litany of things. Not like when they got separated in Ba Sing Se but when for a second he thought she had succumbed to the fire nation raid—the fear is more tangible than it had been in those moments of his somewhat frenetic searching for her. After that they had leaned on each other and both laughed until the tears had contented.The futility of words had weighed heavily on him that day even when he was drawn to clarity after their shared sea of tears.

It’s not long before he finishes eating and he places the tray down. He settles himself back into the blanket now with a full belly and fatigue from a sated appetite. He hears the door, sitting up again. 

A tinge of apprehension tears in his throat. He knew at some point he was going to have this discussion but didn’t quite know how to broach it to him. He hears the vague shifting of Piando’s robes on the hollows of the floor and the lump swells in the base of his stomach. The outside lantern light spills into the room as his master makes his way to his side with a small plate containing bandages and things of that nature. The man sits and starts binding the sore wrist slowly. 

The man with crow feet stretched over a large mass of his face, who's skillful knowledge had largely made him what he was today and sat attending to him much like mother would do. He smiled, his face plastered with a half eaten smile that shone in the low shadows of his room. Piando leaned forward and told him in a lowered voice, “this anger you feel, doesn’t solve anything.” 

“This anger you feel doesn’t solve anything,” Piando said, leaning forward with a lowered voice. “But there is nothing dishonourable or shameful about that. You are entitled to it. Piando continued the binding of his hand and when Sokka refused to speak and instead reclined into the silence, there was a heavy expulsion of breath from his master. In consideration he refrained from being purposely obtuse but still he couldn’t help but turn to slight the distress in his eyes.

"You mustn't let yourself repine in these thoughts.” Sokka nods along with the blank look in his eyes when Piando finishes the binding tucking the fraying edges into the crux of his thumb.

Piando left a while back and words still rang in his ears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter will be up hopefully tomorrow... maybe even the day after. i look forward to your comments and kudos because they give loads of motivation to continue this Crackfic


	5. Lines in the sand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shout out to my love Jasmine for beta-reading. Anywho pls Kudo and comment

Sokka watches as the gap between the island and him slowly widens. The sea is a lilac grey colour as the boat heaves and drops in curves, with a queasy feeling settling in the pit of his stomach but it’s not from the boats. For this, he is certain because he was practically birthed off the arctic seas with ice water running in his veins and the blue of the arctic in his eyes. Frankly, he spent more than half of his life on these floating wonders to become sick at a little turbulence. 

With this in mind, he ends up deciding resolutely that he's tired of looking out at the sea as he heads back to his cabin. He has seen enough of it to last him a lifetime as he comes to rest and let the buffer of the waves quietly lay him out 

***

He exchanged a glance around the room with a focus that doesn’t quite place. Blue eyes temporarily catch the pooling of warm light that streams through the open Hanji paper doors. The rain pants about the cobbled yard and he turns to see the scattered shrubs and trees that cage the outlines of his vision. 

Hesitating, a little intimidated, if he was being honest. All his thoughts had dwindled into clammy fear and the need to run lingers on his tongue. 

With all things considered, It does take him a few tries for it to all sink in. Lifting his head a little more as he tried to persuade the cloud of confusion, before ditching the idea altogether and opting to pile the scrolls and carry on by the entrance. Regardless of it all, Sokka doesn’t consider himself a coward, even with the current state of affairs. But he felt like a boy again at the southern borders lost within himself with words all stifled.

His knees pressed flush as the servant ushered him further into the table. She leaned into curt bows, disappearing behind the paper doors.  
Confident and amused, she only cocks her head regarding him in an equating expression. The curve of askance sitting on the swell of her full lips. Sokka remarks on the loss of red pigment — he’s got to give himself credit for trying so hard to be rational. It’s hard to pretend to be so unaffected when he can almost hear the music and the plum dark night slice away. And his eyes continue to watch her-- to dissect her, clearly. 

It comes to him that they both appear extraordinarily calm and tender with each other as if sensing the high hill of uncertainty that peaks in the others’ rickety state of mind.

He brushed his hand over his lips, absentmindedly before dropping it in his lap. Again, his eyes follow the shifting of material. That’s exactly what you got you in this situation, the rational part of Sokka’s brain chides in a resigned sigh. He was pretty sure it had been discarded back at the boat. 

He has now grown certain that she’s become catastrophically aware of his stare. Sokka opts to look around for anything that might catch him some restraint. But in truth restraint had never been a strength of Sokka’s, choosing instead to build the brick facade of it over the years but at last, he could not help but find it crumbling, falling, fading and shedding like damp earth in the palms of an earthbender’s hands. Which in turn caused his hands to flutter unsure of themselves and where they should land as he stroked them up and down the muscles of his thighs. 

But even then he can only do so much before his eyes divert on their own accord.

The unsettling awareness of his own heartbeat floods his mind as Sokka’s eyes darted upwards to lock with hers as she poured the tea with a kind of slow reverence. Reserved for something just beyond the touch of time. His mouth immediately becomes undesirably dry and it appears to him that this idea is made only more absurd by her and the whole normalcy of it all. It was such a stark contrast to what he had come to know as Azula.

It was like an out-of-body experience that seems largely exasperated by her foreign and misplaced aloofness. If you could call it that. He is unprepared for this greeting. This unsettling familiarity is far too much for his overworked mind. And it acts like something abrasive like sandpaper to his resolve. Still, he endured the placid calmness and he took one deep breath even with the pressure in his body being so immense. It doesn’t do much, only willing the curve out of his spine.

If someone were to walk in on this rather pleasant display, well… the thought did quite bring him some grounding ease. Selfish of him, really. But it was the only thing in this ordeal that made sense as his eyes wandered.

Her eyes bore with carefully held apprehension charged with askance, Azula tilts ever so slightly hair falling to one side.

In all other circumstances, this would grate his nerves so why not this particular one?

“Is something the matter?”

Managing to keep his voice steady although he could feel his eyes were as wide as moons. He makes some foul attempt of a joke to stifle whatever awful tasting thing forming in the air

“You’re looking a little worse for wear. I thought pregnancy was supposed to give you a healthy glow.”

“Is that your idea of sterling commentary?”

“Forgive me, please for speaking so freely to you. I am however choosing to swallow my pride by being here, Azula. Don’t make it more difficult than it needs to be.”

She contorted her lips into a jabbing smile, but her cheeks were not so compromising. He could feel their reluctance to be forced. Her cheeks grew tight as her laugh came forth like a spark.

“Difficult? No matter that. Let’s cut to the chase. Why are you here?”

“You know why.” 

“I do?” He looks slightly injured at her admission and hates the note her voice takes. It’s softly acute and all unbeknownst. It makes him tremble all over like the moon on water.

“You know where the problem lies with drawing lines in the sand, with a breath of air they disappear. 

“But you are here too because you desire answers and solutions just like me. You want answers too”

“Presumptuous of you.”

“Now I know that doesn’t matter to you.” His strength left him some while back but still, he supplies her a tired rakish smile.

“Humour me on why I should even consider the possibility of a union.” Throwing her hand absentmindedly. “If I’m being frank, I’m more than content to raise the thing by myself.”

“Let me try and get my bearings together.” She sees the sides of his head are clean-shaven to reveal dark tawny skin. An upward flight of an eyebrow. 

“Aren’t you afraid of what everyone is going to think when they find out that you have bedded the crazy princess? I wonder what your merry band would say?” she struggles to cage the humour that sits atop her brow. She picks up the cup and sips.

“Look, Azula,” he started. “I am aware that this situation is not ideal, but I think we should go about this as wisely as possible.”

With a lazy smirk, she waved her hand. “Let’s see how you buffer your fall.”

“Fall?” 

“Ah come now. Haven’t you heard? They call me the mad princess and then-- some foreign ambassador thought it a good idea to sleep with me. I wonder how your career will survive something so solicitous?”

He sighed, “I want to be part of the child’s life, that’s all I ask.”

“You’d acknowledge a bastard?”

“I will acknowledge any child of mine and I will not run from my responsibilities.”

Azula scoffed. “Responsibilities? Zuzu and I have the means to offer anything my child could desire. What could you do?”

“I can be the father that it deserves.”

“Why?”

With another sigh, Sokka continued. “There is no need for your reputation to take another hit. You know that every faction against Zuko will jump at the chance to discredit you and then get rid of him.”

“Ah, so you’re doing it for him.”

“Well, you clearly don’t believe that I genuinely want to be a good father so I suppose I’ll settle with that.”

“Look, I understand the circumstances we are both under aren’t the most compelling but I want the relationship with the mother of my child to be civil at the very least. However, I can not force you to accept this proposal because that would be presumptuous of me. But if you are really right about what you said with everything being behind you. Then, Azula, give me a chance.”

“I can figure it. Everything, if need be.” A sting of something curls sharply in his chest as he readied himself for the sure swift rebuttal.

Plops the cup of tea down. Amusement unfurls on her face like a flag as she ventures boldly, the gold of her eyes flinty and dark. “Azula.”

“I’ll have them prepare a room for you then.”

And with that, she spun and left down the halls servant in tow. She took all the air and leaving him with nothing left to keep. Only a handful of seconds seemed to crawl by as he felt the sticky claws of realisation. 

***  
As she pondered in silence, her wrought up body longing for refreshment and equally repose. Azula slips a nod in which both she and the maid are keenly aware. The quiet hisses of burning are enticing as she focuses on its faltering dance and the desire to feel the divine flames. As it’s brilliance pours out of the bundles of fibre and wax. It’s enough to ease the borders that she had erected and had her relax into her bath.

Further, Azula’s body sank into the water, one arm on the rim of the tub. Her hair wades in the water like black seaweed, floating in the gentle waves of her movements. Not enough to disturb the hot pool of liquid but splay the reflection of ripples onto her throat. The maid's eyes stay on the marble floors whilst she sits at the neck of the tub, finger combing Azula’s hair from which the water pours and spills onto the floors. When the maid's exhausted hands slip in sweet oils in her hair, she looks over the shoulder as if she's sure the servant must notice her coils of unease. But the gaze her maid catches with uncertainty is to her surprise not anger but something contemplative. 

With the slightest tilt of her head, the maid immediately left and returned with an assortment of spices. Azula tapped her fingers twice on the rim of the tub. She dismisses her maid with an idle hand. It only then when she sinks further until her ears are past the water line and the world around her becomes a muffled ardour of orange warmth and thoughts. She’s utterly alone again.

She begins to wonder if the quietness she feels is part of the human condition. The thought comes thickening like bile in her throat. It hasn’t been this quiet in her mind since the institution. That and her Startled cries that went unheeded reverberating against the concrete walls. All specially made to prevent her from doing anything unpleasant to herself. For as soon as she recognised the feelings of vulnerability she remained motionless until the offending thoughts relented as if nothing happened Azula’s thoughts ventured onwards pushing through the darkness of her past and coming to a standstill. 

“And what now? Am I to accept this fate?” she whispered, sinking into heated water that gently swallowed every inch of her skin. 

Yes, the same fate that brought her into this world had bound her to a loveless union. The same fate that obligated her parents. 

She could hardly trust her parents with fate. Just look at how she and Zuko had turned out — both had grown in the shadowed ashes of their relationship. A tragedy of bitter memories is all she’s got to show. For rippled scars and charred family, portraits don’t make for a pleasant chatter. Her family was a place where love was as unreliable as snow in the fire nation. It’s perhaps why it made her resent them more. It is something she cannot lay blame on as simply as she wishes. Had it not been the inherited pain of lineage maybe they would have turned out less of a mess.

However, she does certainly think she’s replaying something in her own family’s history. She’s always conscious of a wound, like the passing touch of the tongue on a sore tooth.

She could completely rectify this. Learn to be a parent, have all. She could grow into that form, far deeper than the physical aspect. Mould herself into the role the child deserved. Soft and gentle like her mother had been to Zuko and even her at one time. It was something that caused her to physically recoil with fear in the tepid bath waters.

As the candles were more than half gone and the water now lukewarm. With the weariness of her resignation stirring in her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like pregnant Azula is gonna be one hell of a headache. I might have to write some not entirely OOC scene of dotting sokka

**Author's Note:**

> No slander to Suki because in this house we love and appreciate our Kyoshi queen. The whole premise for this is what if the first steam baby was not from Zuko and Katara....... and if Azula got a redemption arc as well. I'm kind of an Azula apologist (kinda)
> 
> Anyway please kudos and comment. I love to read your comments and stay tune till the next chapter


End file.
